We're lit, we burn, we die
by BlueEyedFrog
Summary: 20 cigarettes to Effy's pack, 20 smoke-sized chapters to a fic. Each ep is a moment captured in time, as witnessed by the inanimate object during its lifespan.
1. Cigarette 1 - A breakup

**A Break-up**

'**Smoke-sized' rather than 'bite-sized' chapters (5 minute reads – equivalent to lighting, smoking and stubbing out one cigarette = 1,000 words)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Keffy any more than I owned Naomily.**

* * *

I hear the crinkle of the plastic seal tearing before the crisp air hits my face. She taps me out impatiently onto her palm and picks me up between two slender fingers. The girl is pretty. Really fucking tragically beautiful. There is a tragic quality about her look actually. Like her striking blue eyes have seen 50 years of life drag by from within what's no more than a child's face.

The wrapper falls to the ground and rolls into the stone gutter. The stormy look on her face tells me this is not a moment for responsible thoughts like not littering. This is a moment for shouting.

"The fuck Freddie!" she spits out at him.

I'm spun around in her hand and she places the tip of the filter against her bottom lip. That's the first time I see the boy. He's as tall as a man but he hasn't seen 50 years like she has. He isn't half a century weary.

His frame is wiry. Anyone who took a cursory look at these two would think they were the perfect match. Two handsome kids; dark and messy hair, neat rows of perfect white teeth but grime under their fingernails, long and elegant limbs in ill-fitting clothes. The epitome of effortlessly cool.

But that superficial glance would be traitorously wrong. An ocean of difference swims in their respective eyes and a whole world separates them even as they stand barely two meters apart. She is a free spirit; more than that even, I'm finding her intangible, difficult to pin down or define. He is just a boy. Nothing more, nothing less.

He reaches across and lights me, looking almost apologetic for the helpful gesture. No sooner has the flame taken that he steps back hastily. He's afraid of intruding on her personal space. It's clear: these two are done being intimate. Done being comfortable. Done being complacent.

She takes a long first drag and her breathing slows a little. His soon falls into sync when he's satisfied she's not going to yell at him. She doesn't look like much of a screamer to me. She strikes me as more of a silent type. He should know that. The first puff of smoke she blows around me tells me all I need to know. It's a give and take.

Her eyes speak for her. They'll watch you intently and pull you apart painlessly, work you out and then tell you in no uncertain terms exactly what she thinks. That's when it hurts. It's rarely what you want to hear but it's usually exactly what you need and it's always right. She's not judging, just solving another puzzle, exploring another landscape or interpreting another canvas of life experience.

Right now her eyes are not cold, they're already resigned and sympathetic. But she's not one for pity either, I learn from her second exhale. It's too late for him. It was already too late last month. It was too late before they started. She was always too old for him. And in the end, it doesn't matter what the catalyst was just now.

She hands me to him as a peace offering, something of a commiseration prize. He pulls me up to his mouth between thumb and forefinger, like I'm a goddamn vulgar spliff. Typical!

As he blows out his first drag, I can tell that he knows too. He's smart enough to have figured out that I'm the last fag they'll share as a couple. Insightful enough to read her at least a little, he knows what comes next.

"Look…" she pauses as he gives me back and ponders her words a bit more than usual to spare him the pain he doesn't deserve. "Basically we're fucked; I mean us, together… this" she gestures between them, waving me about in mid air "is fucked, right?"

"I think 'fucked' is a bit harsh babes." He interjects.

I feel the term of endearment grate on her because she bites down unnecessarily hard on me without realising.

"Freds, we're _fucked_. Let's be honest with ourselves and admit I'm not doing you any favours by sticking around either. It's better for us both to… well, you know, all that usual stupid bullshit people say."

I feel the air stir as he gasps then draws in a further breath to fire back.

"Now come on Eff! You may be mysterious and all that crap but you're no stranger to me. And you're not really all-knowing… You don't know _everything_. You don't know what's best for me. I mean, you don't even know what's good for yourself sometimes. You need me to…" but already the fight is out of him. He deflates and it's almost physical. He doesn't want her to stay if he has to argue and plead his case to convince her. He's worth more than that too.

"Forget it. Sod it you're right," he mumbles "as usual" he adds under his breath.

I hear that last part for her while she drags long and deep several times until I'm scarcely more than a filter. Her mind is elsewhere again, analysing this scenario, playing it over and over again, unravelling the mess that they've gotten themselves into and putting the pieces back neatly where they belong in her head. Yes. There's no other feasible outcome. This is how this was supposed to play out.

"I'm rubbish at this." She breathes out, almost to herself. And once more she's right: if there's one thing she's shit at, it's this talking nonsense. But she knows she owes him at least that so she's prepared to try, for a minute or two. For his sake.

But already I'm dying and I'll be lucky to see them get closure. Neither of them cries. They've gotten to the end.

She flicks me away with a final sigh. I bounce off the nearest dirty wall and land by the tossed wrapper in the gulley where I burn out my last lick of oxygen in peace.

* * *

**And here is where I ask you for feedback because Keffy is less familiar territory for me.**

**Comments are welcome; questions are encouraged.**

**I hope you all enjoyed the first instalment and come back for some more.**


	2. Cigarette 2 - Chain-smoking

**Chainsmoking**

**The next few chapters may come thick and fast over the weekend as I've mapped out where I'm taking this and I seem to enjoy writing this shorter format. After that it/I may calm down a little.**

**Disclaimer: Chainsmoking is bad for you! I don't condone smoking... blah blah blah...**

**Further note: A kind reviewer mentioned she smoked one while she read the last chapter. That's a fucking cool and clever idea. I mean, these chapters are obviously tailored perfectly for that. So take a load off... and have a ciggie if you want. :)**

* * *

Chapped lips. They feel fragile and delicate wrapped around me. She's been neglecting stuff like this that falls outside of basic self-care. The lighter singes my tip as she takes an impatient drag at me. I'm not going to be the one to offer her any real relief.

She blows out. I'm one of many but I don't mind. A succession of purposeless, mechanical but comforting five minute rituals. She's smoking because she's smoking. That's all there is to it. It's cyclical, like the next fag she'll light off me.

Inhale. The smoke fills her lungs and curls around inside her chest. It quells the emptiness inside her a little.

Exhale. Already I know more about her than many. I learn new, deeper insights with each puff.

I'm the perfect confidant for the quiet, taciturn girl. Better than any human sounding board. She doesn't have to say it aloud, I don't ask questions, I don't even talk back. She's not expected to listen to my story in return. I'll be dead in under four minutes anyway so she doesn't have to worry about me after that. About consequences, about repercussions, about responsibilities. She hates feeling like she always owes someone something.

Only recently she cut off the taxing burden that she and the boy had become. The boy I never met. I don't need to; she knows it was the right decision. The boy was kind though, he was discrete and dignified, did the right thing. He didn't argue, much.

I glance at my surroundings. There's a hint of rustling tree limbs overhead. The light that filters down through the leaves keeps changing, that's how I know. The sound is peaceful too. The breeze that blows through the leaves is pleasant. Not too hot or too cold or too strong. And there's water flowing along one side of us. I can't see it or hear it but I know it's there. She's by the river, we're in the old part of town.

It would be a nice place to stop and have a smoke but we're on the move. She's walking fast, headed nowhere in particular.

Shame; I like it here. Still, at least while she's moving she doesn't feel weighed down. I can sympathise with that. She feels as though her limbs would atrophy if she stopped moving. She needs to keep travelling, pulling oxygen into her body and blood, her heart pumping it around her to stay alive. I know I need the oxygen to keep burning too.

She's not really unhappy. There's just a bitter taste on her tongue. It could be the tobacco, it could be life. Probably both.

She is getting existential today and thus so am I. She's feeling philosophical, ergo I am too. I'm merely the instrument, holding up the mirror to her thoughts.

She is always introspective, only today it's slightly more self-indulgent. This ritual is a moment dedicated to the search for _her_ truth, the only truth she's not able to grasp so easily, ironically. These remaining 2 minutes can be devoted to herself. Like why others practice yogalates, go swimming, running, turn to meditation or go to church. I do as much harm as good but it's not about that.

She hasn't decided to smoke another after me yet but I know she will. And those five minutes will be a repeat of the last. Like I said: cyclical. She does know nobody gets anywhere new by walking around in circles, going over the same ground. But you don't need to be as alert when you're familiar with the terrain. You can let the world rush over you. Or sometimes, if you're lucky, you get to see the same things in a different light.

She only knows two modes: in her head and off her head. Today is obviously the former. Generally she won't speed-smoke us unless she's off her head. It's the brain chemicals. The use of alcohol or cocaine potentiates nicotinic acetylcholine receptors, leading to re-sensitization and hence induces a craving. She knows a lot about that sort of shit. She's made it her mission to find out for her own good. The boy was wrong about that part; she does know what's good for her, it's just that sometimes she can shut off the part of her brain that gives a shit if it's not.

Today's less about the craving and more about keeping her hands as busy as her brain. She sucks on the filter and I deliver the chemicals into her system. That's what I have to offer. It's not a bad lot.

We turn onto a busier side street and I begin to struggle to hear her thoughts. It's almost time for my successor to take over anyway. The girl must have pulled it out without my noticing. I'm spun around to face the next one, already in her mouth. She presses our heads together and I have just enough left in me to pass on. The spark and everything it needs to burn. It knows what I know. With any luck she'll get further with it than she did with me.

* * *

**See you tomorrow night for the next one?**


	3. Cigarette 3 - Perceptions

**Perceptions**

**Cigarettes learning about us from one another! What ridiculous notions will you come up with next, Anthropomorphising-Girl?**

**Disclaimer: "Humans see what they want to see." Rick Riordan.**

* * *

There's a woman staring disapprovingly at us. He lapdog seems to be scowling too. Effy hasn't noticed. It's not like she'd care much anyway. From the moment I was pulled out on the busy Bristol market street, vendors and shoppers alike have been casting looks our way. Some flirty, some friendly, others decidedly less so.

While she was finishing her previous fag, a shamelessly lecherous man craned precariously over his fruit stall, hoping for a longer glimpse at her unseasonably bare legs. Apples tumbled off the top of his neatly arranged display and rolled through the feet of three boys playing chase between the stalls. Effy just walked on through the commotion and took another puff.

An older gent, who was studying us with a mixture of pity and concern on his weathered features, had to sidestep the lads. A young blonde girl by the cheese counter stood back waiting impatiently for her mother to order. She looked barely older than Effy. The moment she spotted us, she threw us a look of simpering loathing that would make the bravest men recoil in horror. But Effy lit me and strode forward with purpose.

She knows where she's going now. It's not so much a destination as it is a step in the plan that is forming in her head.

She needs to get fucked up tonight. So she needs somewhere to rally the troops.

Freddie's shed wouldn't do. Too much recent history. She knows they will be facing one another soon enough but she's not about to make a bee-line for their number one make-out spot, is she? She needs a neutral place. Panda's would do.

Panda was convenient. Too convenient for her own good sometimes. But for today, it was perfect. Mrs Moon doesn't live far from here so we'd be there in no time. She lives even closer to the pub. That was the important part.

"Oh hey!" grins the perky girl who opens the door to us.

Effy smirks at the underlying tone of surprise in her voice despite Pandora knowing she was coming over.

"Hey." She shrugs back. "Did you call the others?"

Just like with the boy, this relationship is not one of equals. Although with Panda, Effy has never felt like they owed each other anything. They can coexist in a mutual symbiosis that their parents call a friendship.

"Yeah, they're on their way here now… uhm…" she stares right at me as Effy moves to step inside.

"Sorry Eff, you can't smoke that in here. Mum'll have kittens, and not the cute fluffy kind."

Effy rolls her eyes but she's too stubborn to just put me out.

"Fine." She shrugs again and sidesteps elegantly off the stoop, flattening her back against the ugly rendered wall of the house. She braces herself with one foot on the wall and stretches her neck, letting out another long column of smoke.

"So, Keith's eh?" whispers Panda conspiratorially as Effy puts me back to her lips.

"For starters" she clarifies, blowing the smoke away from her friend.

Panda nods. "And, you and Freddie – "

"Finished" concludes the brunette.

"Ok" smiles panda with a look of blind trust and acceptance that can only mean years of knowing Effy.

Over the next few minutes, a straggly group of motley teenagers gathers two by two around the girls. It feels like the gang's whole dynamic is about how they relate in pairs rather than who each of them is as an individual. Effy fucking hates this. It's not like any of them lack strength of character either, and yet it's all 'couples' and 'exes' and 'siblings' and 'wingmen'…

Maybe it's Effy's desire to remain aloof, not to be weighed down by unnecessary human connections. Maybe she's being unreasonable to expect a bunch of teenagers not to be anything but a teeming mess of dysfunctional relationships. Still, sometimes she just wishes, even for their sake, that they could define themselves as more than just the labels of who they are to one another. Such a fucking soap opera.

So she sucks on me gratefully while Panda greets her boyfriend with an enthusiastic kiss. She exhales another drag as the twins arrive bickering as usual. She focuses intently on tapping away excess ash when Naomi arrives to smoothly scoop up Emily's hand in hers.

The 'popular' twin, Katie, tried to befriend Effy at the start of the year. 'Recruit' more like. The brunette didn't want a bar of it. You'd have thought she had signed her own social death warrant right then and there. Though Effy could hardly have cared less.

But instead it was the other girl who tumbled through the social graces of Roundview. She slid from her position of head-bitch-in-charge until she found herself ostracised by the very clique of alpha WAGs she used to rule.

Now Katie is out of favour. She still dresses like she belongs to them; maybe it's reassuring. She's yet to realise she has other options. She still hasn't found out who the girl under the makeup is. She kicks around with Emily because she can't face standing alone. At least that's how Effy sees it. If you asked Katie though, it's more about family and mending things. The twin has come a long way on this journey considering she can't make out where it's headed.

None of them can see it yet; they're only human.

Effy purses her lips around me as Freddie arrives last on his board. She peels herself off the wall without a word and begins to lead the way down the street.

"Still sucking on those cancer sticks, Effy?" says the darker twin reproachfully, stepping into stride with her.

"Still dressing for someone else, Katie?" Effy replies, giving the other girl a once over. Katie doesn't catch the full depth of Effy's meaning. And that's exactly what she intended. Anyway, she's finished with me now. I'm flicked ahead of them, sparks bouncing off my fading ember. It's Katie's boot that puts me out.

* * *

… **And… off to work I go.**


	4. Cigarette 4 - Frozen

**Frozen**

**Never have I posted from so many different locations. Get your act together, wifi providers of Australia!**

**Disclaimer: "And I saw my reflection in a lake and I waited for it to freeze a little bit so I could break it with my foot." Sam Pink.**

* * *

The pack hasn't been opened for a couple of days. It's been hugging Effy's left ankle inside the warm and worn leather of her biker boots. From inside the cavernous hiding place, we've overheard dozens of muffled conversations, the dull drone of teacher after teacher wishing they were someplace else, the pounding and liquefying beat of club speakers and the shrill, harsh sounds of parents fighting into the early morning to 'stay together for good of the kids.'

"You vicious cunt..."

The first actual words I hear as she slides me out of the crumpled blue soft pack. Effy has just scaled up the drainpipe to her bedroom window like a cat in the night. No need for a distraction, her parents are both too busy self-destructing in the family lounge to notice her early morning arrival. She has thrown both her boots against the door of her room and sits on the window ledge. I am twirled idly through her fingers as her toes stretch free against the coarse stone face.

To our right is the quiet of the street, to our left the chaos of her room. The bed, covers still strewn dramatically halfway off the mattress from her last argument with Freddie. She hasn't slept in the bed since that night. The floor, scattered with Tony's collared shirts.

The room used to be Tony's before he moved out. The day after he received his early acceptance letter from the maths faculty of Cambridge he had bolted in the opposite direction, leaving his room and belongings essentially untouched. The last letter Effy received from him was postmarked from Tirana, Albania. She was the only Stonem he still contacted.

So the prodigal daughter had taken the place of her brother. She had moved into his room. She sometimes wore his clothes, they were comforting. She had also taken over as the main bearer of the family hopes for the Stonem name. That last one was less of a conscious choice. Tony's flight had left a void in the Stonem household and it was sucking the life out of the remaining three.

The flint wheel catches a few times before igniting the wick but once the flame is burning it's steady in the wind. Effy cups her hand protectively around me until I'm properly lit.

It's a cold night up here. She pulls the collar of the tailored jacket around her shoulders and sinks further down against the window frame. It's only now that she realises she's still wearing the damn thing.

Katie Fucking Fitch! What business was it of hers anyway? It's like she has a goddamn complex, that girl. As if now that Emily doesn't need protecting anymore she has to go and find herself another helpless cause. Well not Effy! No sir!

She blows a plume of smoke past me.

It had been Effy's plan to shut off that pesky self-preservation part of her brain tonight. She was aiming for little mess and mayhem. A bit of harmless chaos. And she would have gotten it too. When Freddie had set his sights on that obvious substitute-Effy with the ridiculous name… Whatever the fuck it was… it was clear as the light of day what he was looking for under those strobe lights.

She's not sure what stirred her into action though. She knew that wasn't healthy for Freds. He deserved better than her; recreating her was not moving on. But there was also a part of her that just wanted to play. Just wanted to know what she felt like, wanted to let something out.

So she'd sashayed up to the two of them, pressed the palm of her hand on the girl's naked breastbone and pushed her away from him. When she reached for a fistful of her hair, the girl's eyes registered shock. She wasn't being possessive of Freddie, she was taking his toy away from him.

Effy grabbed her and pulled hard, exposing her neck. She placed her lips there and felt the scorching burn on her back of every eye in the place turned on her. Kissing her way up her jaw, the other girl must have felt those eyes too because she began to play along. As she started kissing back, Effy bit down on her lip. Hard.

She had just begun to taste the metallic tang of blood when she felt her own hair being yanked backwards. At first she'd thought "Good, she's playing rough too" but then she flew back into a cluster of bodies.

When her eyes found focus, they landed on the intense eyes of Katie Furious Fitch. The rest was a blur.

Effy takes another drag at me through her teeth while her hands huddle under the warm lining of the jacket.

A blur underscored by the sound of Katie's sibilant scolding. She was wrapped up in the jacket and taken outside where Katie found Cook and gave him strict instructions.

Somehow Effy must have been taken home by which time she had sobered up enough from the pills and booze and shock to make it up to her room.

She looks down at the street, a bit more lucid now. That's when she sees him. He knows she's back to herself now. The glowing butt starts to singe at her fingers. She throws it into the street, a safe distance from him. Cook steps over and puts me out with his foot. He gives her a one handed salute and skulks off into the night.

* * *

**I now leave you to ponder while I go join the marriage equality debate which has just begun at the dinner table.**


	5. Cigarette 5 - Thawing

**Thawing**

**"_We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt._" Walter Scott.**

* * *

"Got a light?"

It's a surprisingly balmy night out but Katie Fitch is sneering at us.

"Why would I have a light Stonem? I don't fucking smoke."

Effy suppresses the chill that runs down her spine at Katie's cold response.

"Right…" she lets me dangle between her lips and scans the garden for an alternative.

It takes less than thirty seconds for two young men to step up and offer Effy their lighters, hoping to break the ice. She looks them both up and down. One is dressed in an ugly beige monkey suit and tie, the other in casual clothes. Effy leans towards the latter, he cups his hands around me and brings me to life. Taking a first draw of smoke, Effy turns back to Katie.

"You don't smoke; so you came out here because…"

Katie just stares her out in silence. After a moment, the men notice they are no longer required. This is not their time. They set their sights on other horizons and shuffle off.

Katie's stare softens a little. "I followed you out because I wanted a word."

I feel the tar seep slowly into my filter as this revelation sinks in. Effy is taken aback too: Katie Fitch wants to talk to her!

The older twin doesn't really talk with people, Effy thinks. She talks _at_ people, she'll talk herself up to hide her insecurities but she doesn't do dialogue. Anyway if she wanted to talk at someone tonight, she had better options than Effy. It never much used to matter if her chosen spectator was interested or even listening but she tends to prefer ones that at least pretend. Only Effy never pretends to be anything she's not. So she decides to shoot straight.

"You want to talk to me? Come on Katie… I don't talk and you're hardly a listener."

Katie bristles a little and Effy silently regrets that last comment. The other girl doesn't deserve such harshness before at least finding out her motives. She's been changing; she's gotten more introverted over the last month. If she's chosen to seek Effy out for a talk, maybe we owe her the decency of hearing her out.

"Yeah well how about _you _to do the listening right now, ok?" says Katie recovering quickly. "Just don't get that smoke in my face."

Effy nods and, by way of an apology, she agrees to hear Katie out "Go ahead."

"I'm not really sure how to say this without coming off like a self-righteous bitch" Katie starts.

Effy coughs in shock as the last puff of smoke she inhaled goes down the wrong way. But before she can interject again Katie has launched into her tirade.

"You're on a collision course. That shit you pulled last weekend, what the fuck was that?! Sucking face with Arsia, I mean – ugh! Repulsive much Eff?"

"Jealous Katiekins?" it's a cheap attempt at reclaiming control. I know it, Effy knows it, I'm pretty sure Katie knows it too.

The twin snorts derisively "Obviously not! But that girl's a skank and you were off your tits."

"What are you, my rehab sponsor? I don't remember joining Narcotics Anonymous. We were _all_ munted." argues Effy.

"There's munted and there's _munted_ Effy." Katie stares her down intently. "You were borderline catatonic. You're self-combusting, girl."

"I'm not self- " Effy balks "That's none of your fucking business."

"Ok fine, forget about your own wellbeing. You need to be kinder to Freddie then, alright? He's a good guy. He doesn't deserve you throwing yourself at people like that in front of him so soon."

I sense a kindred bond behind Katie's protectiveness of Freddie that goes beyond the short-lived and dysfunctional relationship they once had. But Effy doesn't pick up on this and I have no way of telling her. All I can do is deliver more tobacco and observe passively as Effy bites back.

"That's rich Katie; coming from the queen of promiscuity."

"Shut up Eff! I'm not a slag ok? There's a lot you don't know about me."

"I never said I knew everything." Effy counters bitterly. It's not her fault if everybody else makes out like she's omniscient.

But Katie is on a roll.

"I never slept with Danny, I'll have you know. The one time we even got close he couldn't get it up. The other boyfriends never even existed."

She fans some stray smoke out of her face and it curls around her hair, catching the light and forming a thick, billowy halo behind her. I would feel guilty if she didn't look quite so stunning framed in smoke and light like that.

"I made them up. It was expected of me to have heaps of exes when I was hanging out with the other stupid WAGs. I just went along with it."

"But…" Effy's face contorts into a look of confusion which does not look right on her usually calculated and composed features. "You slept with Freddie though, before he and I…"

"Freddie was a fucking scam!" Katie yells. A few faces turn our way but they don't linger. "He agreed to orchestrate the whole thing as a favour to me."

Her eyes flitter to me. "Oh sod it! I'm getting passive smoke off you anyway, might as well enjoy it. Give me one of those damn things." Katie instructs.

When Effy just stares blankly at the redhead, Katie reaches for the pack still poking out of Eff's cleavage and helps herself. She plucks me from Effy's frozen lips and pushes my lit tip to her chosen cigarette. Within a few seconds it comes to life and I'm returned to Effy. Katie draws a surprisingly smooth puff on her cigarette and continues.

"I went to Freds when the girls at college were already barely speaking to me. One of them had started seeing Danny and he blabbed about our lack of sex. Said _I_ was the frigid bitch, no mention of _his_ little problem obviously. The girls started floating a rumour about me and Ems being even more identical than people thought. Like I was some sad, pathetic lezzer. I couldn't let them torch my reputation so I did what had to be done, didn't I?"

For a moment, Katie's distinctive bravado muscles back in to cover for her recent candour. I can spot this even as I'm waning. Her smokescreen doesn't last long though.

"So I asked Freddie to help me out. We worked it out so that Cook would catch us doing it, like. Figured he was most likely to spread word around school that his mate and I were shagging. Freddie had called him the day before with some bullshit pretext to come over at the right time. But typical prick, he was running late, so JJ and Ems beat him to it unannounced."

Katie flicks her cigarette pensively near her hip as she recalls the whole fiasco. Effy however is busy sucking the last dregs out of me, wishing I had more to give, eager for Katie to continue.

"Karen was in on the whole thing. She thought it was bloody hilarious when my sister showed up instead of Cook; figured it served us right for the deception so she let them both in anyway. Did the trick too, seeing as word got around either way and I didn't even have to pretend to be surprised when they caught us. But we faked everything else."

Effy's brow is still creased as she processes the new info. "But why would Freddie agree to-"

"For _you_, you dense bitch!" Katie interrupts angrily. "He figured he could kill two birds with one stone. Help me out with the favour and make you jealous at the same time. It got you to look his way and you two were loved up before long." She waves her fag dismissively.

"But now the gig is up, yeah. You two crashed and burned and my reputation is up in flames anyway. So there's no point in keeping up the charade with you."

Effy's icy frown melts a little as she puts me out. "So you're… she deadpans.

"Whatever." Katie almost shrinks with the admission. "Don't tell Freddie or anyone what I told you or I'll kill you Stonem. Just be fair to him is all I'm saying."

* * *

**I'm keen to see what the general consensus is on Katie's reveal and the different take on what really happened that afternoon at Freddie's house.**

**Personally I like to think of Katie in two ways: either she's putting up a "daddy's innocent little girl" front for the parents and she really is the foxy, confident and experienced young lady she comes across as, OR if the sassy, brassy, ballsy Katie is part of the act (as we come to discover in season 4 when her world unravels) perhaps her sexual experience could also be called into question. Food for thought?**


	6. Cigarette 6 - Echolalia

**Echolalia**

**"There is no love that is not an echo." Theodor Adorno.**

* * *

I'm the lucky one. Poking out of the pack just that little more than the others, letting me perceive the world around us.

The beer garden is only dimly lit. It's a still autumn night and the low clouds overhead have kept the temperature pretty pleasant. The crowd of overdressed after-work stiffs are milling about in the cushy sunken seating area, filling today's void with cheap beer and even cheaper conversation. Stone steps lead out of this area to the veranda where we stand. The rest of the people near us are smokers too. None of them could obviously be bothered fully committing to coming outside for a smoke, preferring instead to venture a mere six feet out the door to suck hastily on their fags and stumble back inside to their drinks and company. It's a shame really. When barely a stone's throw away there's tea-lights, a trellis, cushions and candles, lanterns and seating.

But that's not why we are here either. There is a pretty girl standing with us and her face tells us she means serious business. I think she looks even more beautiful because she's mad. There's an intensity to her features, a strength barely kept in check. Yes, I reflect, that's what makes her so striking. She is wearing carefully chosen mismatched earrings, a low cut top, a pair of form-hugging jeans and sophisticated low-heeled sandals. An understated outfit, but every item was clearly thoughtfully selected to complement the next and the body wearing it. But what do I know? I'm just a cigarette.

The girl with the rich red hair is yelling.

"Freddie was a fucking scam!" The surrounding smokers look around startled and she drops her voice when she continues.

She waves smoke away from her face in exasperation; the next thing I know she's reaching towards us. Her fingers wrap nimbly around the pack without touching Effy's skin. I see the perfectly outlined curve of her lips draw closer until they wrap around my filter and pull me out of my snug slot. And just like that I begin to _feel_ rather than merely perceive. It's a fucking rush. I've been born into lips of luxury.

I feel the sultry singe of Effy's cigarette and the drag of the girl's lips as she brings my flame to life. The following inhale is smooth and strong and I've just been given all I need to understand her.

Katie. The girl who smokes only rarely and for the pure pleasure of it. Not like Effy, out of boredom or need for tobacco. Not rushed and not forced. Not out of habit and certainly not often. She takes her time, draws languorously on the filter in between words.

She learned to smoke from her sister. Fifteen year old Emily was practising her French-inhale to impress the girls by the time Katie even found out she smoked. Katie was first hurt by the realisation that her twin was keeping things from her. But, never to be caught offguard, she took the opportunity as a chance for learning. And so her little sister taught her how to best enjoy the flow of chemicals we could deliver. How to savour the taste without the burn, how to hold the fag elegantly, high on the knuckles, and the best tricks to hide us from mum and dad.

Katie explains how Freddie and she had formed an odd friendship when she asked him to fake a sexual relationship with her. They both had their reasons to make the deal and Katie makes no secret of this now. She tells Effy she didn't want the bimbos at college to think that she too was gay.

To tell the truth, she's not that fussed about her reputation any more. She's started to realise that other people's opinions are not as enlightened as all that and living one's life according to what those people think is a bit of a fucking waste.

There are two external opinions Katie still cares about now. The first is that of her family. Family is everything to Katie. It has always meant everything in the Fitch household. The second is this girl right here, Effy sodding Stonem. Effy was the first person to call Katie on dressing to impress others and I can tell that Katie's choice of clothes tonight is a step towards dressing like herself. Katie takes another even drag on me. She tells herself that the reason Effy's opinion matters is precisely because Effy doesn't give a shiny shit what others think. Her own opinion is unbiased truth. She has the decency to tell you exactly what she thinks. 'No bullshit'; Katie trusts and respects that.

So she's telling Effy the story of the arrangement she struck with Freddie. She's telling Effy because she realised tonight that she actually fucking cares about what the other girl thinks of her. She doesn't want Effy thinking she's a slag so she has to come clean.

She lowers her hand and flicks me clean of ash near her hip, remembering the afternoon with Freddie and how it all came back to bite her.

Effy asks why Freddie would agree to such a charade and that's when Katie loses her temper again. She fires up beautifully and I can almost feel her radiating heat and frustration.

"For _you_, you dense bitch!" she interrupts.

Her next drag is not like her. It's impatient, it's messy and rushed. An old unwelcome feeling comes over Katie as she purses her lips around me. She recalls Freddie telling her he would play along as long as they faked it. It hurts a little to remember the pang of jealousy she had felt then. How Freddie was so intent on staying faithful to whatever messed up exclusive commitment he had made to Effy in his spliff-addled brain. He was in it to get to Effy, and that still made Katie feel bitter.

Even now she realises how fucking dumb and ironic that was, because her whole relationship with him was fake. But it didn't stop her feeling jealous of Freds' devotion to Effy. She wanted someone to want her enough to do something stupid like that for her.

She waves me around, dejected, trying to shake the cobwebs of her jealous memories from her mind.

"But now the gig is up, yeah. You two crashed and burned and my reputation is up in flames anyway. So there's no point in keeping up the charade with you."

"So you're…" Effy puts out her own cigarette and Katie shrugs off the word the brunette was kind enough not to use.

She issues Effy a cursory warning so she won't divulge Katie's double bluff. Effy knows it's an empty threat though. Like I said, Katie trusts Effy. She knows the quiet girl has no interest in telling anyone.

Katie is more committed to protecting her friends than her own reputation now. She wants Effy to stop repeating the pattern of damaging behaviour she slipped inexorably further into last weekend. She told Effy to do it for Freddie's sake because we both know Effy won't do it for herself. But really she'll also be glad to see her stop hurting Freddie.

This is the barely contained strength I detected in her earlier. This fierce fighting instinct. What compels her to have a barney with Effy and reveal a vulnerable secret instead of standing idly by and watching her friend continue to chase her own oblivion.

Both girls have lapsed into silence. They stand side by side with elbows barely touching. Staring out over the heads of the drinkers outside and mulling over the exchange while Katie finishes me. It's not an awkward silence but a loaded one. Like a spontaneous minute's silence marking this blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment in which the dynamic between two friends has shifted.

Katie has resumed her slow, elegant drags. Each time she places me cautiously between her lips so as not to mess up her neatly applied coral lipstick. It's wonderful, being treated with such care.

In a brief moment of insecurity, the redhead darts a furtive look at Effy to gauge her reaction to what has been said. But Effy has returned to her impenetrable self. Her face is like marble, just as beautiful and just as cold and emotionless, betraying none of the sentiments that may be hiding behind it.

It's at this moment that a familiar tanned face appears through the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot, he's past the point of self-conscious concerns.

"I've been sent to fetch you ladies." He enunciates laboriously, overcompensating. Then he adopts a theatrical pose, fist closed against his puffed out chest, and mimics his best mate's booming delivery.

"Cook says it's gotten _boring as bat shit in_ _there since you left. _And it's my job to come out here and get you both because – ahem – _'They're your women, mate!_' he said" Freddie marks very intoxicated air quotes and smiles meekly before adding in his quieter voice "Tosser." There is no malice in his tone.

Effy snaps out of her trance. "Wanker" she echoes. Her tone conveys a bit more spite however. Her patience with Cook is dwindling, as is her patience towards Freddie's continued indulgence of his mate's selfish antics.

I'm plucked all too fast out of Katie's sweet lips and crushed against the filthy wall mounted cigarette bin. The girls follow Freddie in, leaving me behind. I'm the lucky one.

* * *

**.**


	7. Cigarette 7 - Calm

**Calm**

**"There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm." Willa Cather**

* * *

We are in Naomi and Emily's front lounge in the early hours of a post-clubbing morning. The furniture has been pushed against the furthest wall except for the glass low table. Remnants of MDMA powder are still sprinkled across it along with plastic cups and half empty liquor bottles. Dislodged couch cushions and blankets have been scattered about the floor. A sallow, unflattering fluorescent light bathes nine lazy bodies, all mellowed out on mandy.

Cook lies nearest the table, lobbing lollies at Emily's cleavage. JJ is analysing the flaws in his mate's chosen trajectory. Nobody is really listening. Naomi just watches on with glazed eyes, giggling to herself.

Effy has pulled me out 20 minutes ago but she still hasn't worked up the drive to light me. My edges have softened and wrinkled as she tapped me, fidgeted, rolled me between her fingers, placed me behind her ear and forgot about me. A few minutes ago she removed me and has since gotten completely side-tracked by how my proportions fit into the pattern of the carpet weave in all directions.

She is mesmerised, distracted and preoccupied. Well, she _was_ preoccupied. Her recent conversation with one Katie Fitch and a later one that same night with Naomi about both twins' recent behaviour had been playing on her mind. But now the drugs have kicked in; now she's mainly just monged. Feeling no more pain, if only in this moment.

I see her reach across Cook's belly for her lighter on the table.

Nobody notices her light up except Cook, who is closest, and Katie. The redhead narrows her eyes at Effy when she sees the faint plume of smoke drift towards the window.

But then Katie is high too and the sweet crystals have numbed her motivation to be upset about the trivial smoke I'm giving off. She face softens and her lips turn up into a subtle smirk as she shrugs into her cushion. Effy holds her gaze and returns her elusive smirk like a stoned Mona Lisa. In that moment of tacit and unobserved eye contact neither of them blinks.

Effy exhales into the space between them, pushing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth. She tosses the lighter back onto the table and tugs the ashtray over so that it sits just within arm's reach.

Wide pupils suit Katie. Like large black stones proudly set in a thin rim of brown iris, they complement her heart-shaped face perfectly, making her look rather hypnotic. Effy can't disagree.

The girls are meeting in the middle; tonight Effy is not going off the rails and Katie has allowed herself to misbehave a little. That's what good drugs can do I guess: make everyone equal, bring everyone to the same level. This last hit has lightened Katie's mood and relaxed everyone. It has blunted the teeth and talons of the demons clawing at Effy's mind for now. She is heading towards that altered state of bliss. That place of deep inner and general acceptance where everything is beautiful. This is the moment she chases every single night. But that's the problem with manic depression, isn't it. When you're up you're fucking flying, but when you're down you're spiralling towards oblivion with no foothold.

Still now she's up and with each drag she takes on me the taste is purer, the aroma sweeter, the sensation warmer and the hit of tobacco more fulfilling. Even the shape of the smoke is more beautiful. It's floating up towards the ceiling, finding it is trapped and curling on itself before slowly dissipating. Even in the cheap, shitty lighting, Effy is entranced by the utter beauty of it.

Being happy sounds simple enough. It's not such a big deal to a simpler brain like Cook's. But it shouldn't be undervalued. Every now and then Effy envies that ability he has to be satisfied with his lot. He doesn't question things so much. Sometimes that means he's childish or selfish, sometimes it means he's bloody irritating, but sometimes it means he's the best person to have around. Tonight has been one of those times. He's still lying back, his shoulders propped up by the foot of the couch. Having run out of lollies, he's simply grinning at Naomi and Emily who seem to have forgotten they've got company or stopped caring and started snogging.

As she expels another heartbreakingly beautiful breath of smoke, Effy feels a soft nudge low on her shin.

When she looks down, her eyes land on the unfocussed outline of a sock hooking over the dip of her anklebone. She follows the leg up to the foot's owner and finds Katie, shuffling about in her nest of blankets. When the redhead finds a position that she deems comfortable, she lets out a contented sigh. Effy reflects how much she looks and sounds like a small animal. A far cry from the girl she met just over a year ago, the girl who was to be feared or followed, both if she had her way.

The contact wasn't intentional, but once the twin notices it she makes no move to withdraw it. With another strong comforting drag, Effy finds herself feeling immensely grateful for this. The modest human contact is multiplied by the drugs, the weight amplified such that it keeps her grounded and prevents her from running. Tonight she lets herself enjoy the warmth of the connection to another mortal without feeling any implications of dependency or vulnerability.

Stretching across to tap some ash off me into the glass ashtray, she uses her free hand to tuck the closest corner of Katie's blanket back over their exposed feet.

If anyone asked her right now why she did that, she'd be incapable of saying whether it was to keep Katie's feet warm or to hide their new connection. I know; but fuck it, I'm not telling.

It really doesn't matter. What matters is the fact that the whole living room, in all its squalid perfection, is just in this moment filled with nothing but pure love. Be it Cook's simple – if a little pervy – enjoyment of Naomi and Emily's obvious love for each other. Thommo's more discrete but no less caring show of affection for Pandora as he patiently teaches her to play his mbira thumb-piano. Even Freddie has slung his arm around JJ's neck, erratically singing along to the surreal metallic notes bouncing around the room.

Effy and Katie cast an eye over the scene while Effy draws out what remains of me. She reaches for the ashtray one last time. She has to untangle her legs and raise herself onto her knees to grab hold of her cup, still half filled with top shelf grapefruit vodka.

While I smoulder in the base of the ashtray, I watch as she necks the remainder of her drink and settles back down where she was sitting. She stretches her long legs out again and then, even though we are no longer connected, I know she lifts Katie's ankle back into place over hers before sinking back against the old beanbag and letting an easier sleep take her under.

* * *

**This one comes with a public nod of thanks to my gorgeous Hyperfitched who, in spite of being super busy making art of her own with many shows on the go, found the time to read through this to give me a much needed impartial opinion.**

**She suggested a change in MDMA jargon but also pointed out that I may have overestimated the amount of time Effy could go fiddling with a cigarette without lighting it (the original draft called for 45 minutes... Sorry Eff, Hypes got your back there.)**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this last snippet. Drop me a line to let me know**

**Froggie**


	8. Cigarette 8 - Storm

**Storm**

**Effy: - Why bother?  
Tony: - With what?  
Effy: - Caring about people.  
Tony: - You don't fool me, Effy Stonem.**

* * *

'NO SMOKING ON COLLEGE GROUNDS'

It's clearly spelled out on the sign but really that alone is reason enough to smoke me. _Matter of fucking principle even_, she thinks.

As she mechanically goes through the motions of bringing me to life, her mind drifts back to manipulating Cook and Freddie at the beginning of school year. Playing one against the other with the list of acts that guaranteed you expulsion from Roundview to test their mettle. A worthy dare but a tempting reward, to be sure. Bit of a social experiment to see if they'd actually do it. She's all about social experiments, Eff. She's got that in common with Tony. It was all fun and games. That's what youth is for, right? Hell, that's what life is for.

In hindsight though ironically, they would perhaps have gained more respect if they had stood up to her rather than rush to comply like lemmings in heat.

_Puff, step, step, puff, exhale._

Effy always gets her way and she's getting fucking sick of it. Nobody challenges her anymore, her parents are too busy working or fighting, her teachers are too spineless, the boys too horny. At first she revelled in it. It gave her power, infamous and mysterious queen bee of Roundview and all that. But now she wishes people would show her the goddamn respect of challenging her once in a while.

_Katie had challenged her_, she remembers. Walked right up to her last weekend in that club and wrenched her away from Arsia and, ok, maybe also from a temporary kind of oblivion. She is still mad about it but she is also impressed if she's honest. It took balls that only Katie seems to have.

And then later on that week she had pushed her luck arguing with Effy to stop her 'destructive and hurtful antics' for Freddie's sake. She had to hand it to the older twin, she was irritatingly consistent. Meddling and trying improve everyone's lives. But none seemed to require more improvement in her stubborn Fitch brain as Effy's apparently. Even on a daily basis, she was always goading the devoted smoker to put us out. It's annoying and Effy still isn't considering quitting, but she gives a shit at least. Fucking Katie Fitch!

The sun is still shy over the horizon and the clouds are blushing. We are taking Effy's usual morning stroll, if you can call it that. Tight broken circles around the lonely London plane that grows by the college steps, before the hordes arrive.

_Step, drag, step, tap tap, exhale._

Somewhere out within the parking lot there's a fuss happening. We can't see what's going down but I can hear girls' voices raised over the general school rush.

Effy places me between her lips and saunters over in the direction of the commotion. The clique of popular bimbos that used to worship Katie and now follow a new ringleader are standing in a semi-circle. The new head bitch in charge is running her mouth at none other than the oldest Fitch twin.

Students trudging their way into college just turn a blind eye and walk on by. Typically, nobody wants to put their own neck on the line by intervening. It's every boy and girl for themselves in the high school jungle. There's not a teacher or adult in sight. _Useless prigs_.

Three words fly past us a high speed, propelled by spite and shallow peer pressure.

"Katie _Frigid_ Fitch."

The tyrant's well trained cohort flank her for support, echoing "Frigid Fitch, Frigid Fitch, Frigid Fitch" a veritable Greek tragedy chorus, and cackling away like a pack of hyenas. _Real fucking mature, these high-school bimbos_.

In what is still a rare display of Fitch twin patience and composure, Katie tries to ignore the catcalls, rise above and walk past the girls to the main steps.

Effy's next drag is tense. She's fighting an internal battle. She makes a move towards the group and catches Katie's eyes. What we see in them is not shame, it's defiance. They're saying _don't get involved, _they're saying_ don't make things worse, _they're saying_ I can fight my own battles._

"Spinster lesbo loser." _Zing! _Another triplet of insults shoots out of the nearest bully as she tugs roughly at Katie's collar. At this attack on her outfit, the redhead sees red.

She spins around and fires back "Get your fucking hands off me, slag!"

Very quickly the taunts turn physical. Three of the girls push and shove Katie around. Her shoulder bag is ripped off her and another two girls begin to rummage through its contents. Katie struggles against the firm grip of her assailants.

_Scratch!_ – the leader's face. _Slash!_ – Katie's pearl bracelet. Pearls clatter to the floor.

Katie is powerless against their numbers and she's soon dragged to the ground, still holding a clump of the closest girl's hair in her tight fist.

This time Effy ignores instinct and instructions and moves in. With me pinched between her lips she kneels by Katie and reaches out to help her up. As her hand touches the other girl's she feels a flash of heat and anger. Eff pulls her hand back like she's been scalded. But thankfully Effy is good in situations like this. She's used to drama and mayhem; Tony and she even used to seek it out and create it together. Only this time she's actually trying to diffuse it.

She thinks fast, and it comes to her in a flash. Plucking me out of her mouth with her other hand, she reaches across and stubs me out in the ringleader's right suede Manolo.

My glowing tip is crushed into the soft material and I roll off the shoe onto the bitumen, shrivelled out of shape and still barely smouldering. I'm shocked! But not as shocked as the fierce blonde, who stops dead in her tracks with her mouth agape. The other girls mirror her, true to form, and it's as if time freezes. Passers-by who were making every effort to ignore the fight are suddenly standing around staring now that it's stopped.

Once time has caught up with us, I hear a river of obscenities stream out of the girl's mouth "Are you fucking mental?!" she screams at Effy who is still kneeling between her and Katie.

"Sorry, skipped breakfast." She retorts with her distinctive shrug "Makes me a bit… funny, you know."

The blonde stammers incredulously and makes a dash for the building in a vain effort to save her shoe. The clique of girls drop Katie's bag on the spot and trail behind her muttering supportive comments and volunteering salvage tips.

Katie picks herself up and brushes herself off avoiding Effy's eye.

"You know you just ruined a criminally expensive pair of shoes." She berates, still evading eye contact.

"You're welcome" Effy says calmly "don't mention it."

"Yeah well, actually, I had it covered." Katie's pride is back.

Effy smirks "I could see that. Got a few claws in there even, didn't you tiger." She adds, motioning at Katie's nails. In the same motion, she collects the shorter girl's hand and drops a handful of pearls into her palm.

I see Effy walk away, her job done. My job is done too. I couldn't be happier; for just a moment, I was a real protagonist. I wasn't an inanimate object anymore. I not only burned, I was alive.

* * *

**Yeah, it's tricky toeing the line between the cigarettes' point of view and an omniscient third person narrator. But here I really enjoyed giving the cigarette a leading role, albeit fleeting. After all, cigarettes aren't just an accessory for Effy - they're a bit of a weapon, part of her arsenal if you like. **

**Anyway, I hope you liked the change of pace.**


	9. Cigarette 9 - Out of Breath

**Out of Breath**

**Another dialogue-less chapter, it's atmospheric innit**

* * *

For now it's not raining outside the club but it smells like fresh rain. She's chosen a spot of pavement between puddles to catch a breath and spend some time alone with me.

The moisture in the air gives the street lamps soft pixelated halos. Their lights along each sidewalk reflect straight down onto the black tarmac in fuzzy lines, making King St look more like a deep ravine than a street. Like crossing it would be a great personal danger. The few people walking the street at this late hour even seem to hug to the buildings for safety. The scene almost looks like a tired old black and white film. If it weren't for the sound of the Vanity's thumping bass bursting into the street and the distant retching of some lightweight down the laneway, you might believe it was. The only spots of colour are the headlights of passing cars, scattered into garnet reds, sapphires, pale pinks, copper and gold by each clinging droplet.

She cups her hand around me to shelter my tip against any splash from nearby puddles. As soon as I catch alight, she's sucking gratefully on my filter.

She lets the chemicals soothe her inside as her palm resumes its brushing motion against her left arm. It's as if something has crawled under her skin and Effy is too self-aware to deny _who_ that 'something' is.

It had been just like yesterday, at college. When she had touched the twin's hand to help her up, she'd been hit by a wave of heat. Not real heat certainly; more like electric heat. A buzzing that was more unsettling than physical heat because Effy had not felt it before. So no sooner had she handed Katie's pearls back than she needed to march herself away, shaking out the remaining heat from her arm.

Effy steadies herself against the cold wall. She finds the cold comforting, like she's too volatile for heat. The cold makes her feel more alive. She places me back between her lips more slowly this time and draws in a measured breath, steadying her nerves. A stream of smoke spills past me on the way out as she doesn't bother to pluck me out of her mouth to exhale. I look down. Her arms remain crossed against her chest, our open pack still clutched in her left hand. Her back is hunched over slightly and her feet rolled out inside her boots at the ankles. For such a graceful girl, she really has the worst fucking posture.

They'd both hate me for saying this but Effy had effectively rescued Katie like some knight in shining armour. Only that armour was too heavy and ill-fitting and it made her feel so ridiculously uncomfortable that she had preferred to walk away as if it was nothing. It's not like Effy to make a big deal of anything and Katie certainly doesn't fit the damsel in distress role so she figured the redhead would be grateful if she shrugged it off anyway.

It hasn't been mentioned tonight of course. Neither girl has spoken of what had happened, be it the incident or its implications. It is as if it never happened.

And yet tonight again, the other girl's touch has sent her reeling. The whole gang had migrated to the dance floor after too much straight vodka and not enough drugs. So Effy was flying low. Before long, the whole thing had dissolved into a mess of rippling limbs and bleary eyes. The dance floor at the Vanity was always cramped but this felt ten times worse.

Effy clears her throat quietly as even thinking about it again makes her chest tighten. She inspects my filter with accusing eyes. When she finds nothing suspect, naturally, she returns me to her lips and breathes in slow.

With her nerves already on edge in there, it hadn't taken much. It was like the pressure had been rising inside the building with every foreign touch. Freddie had diligently avoided any physical contact of course. But Naomi had twirled her a few times, making her dizzier than it sensibly should have. Cook had rubbed his crotch against her arse, nothing new there. Panda was skipping around them, unable to contain her usual manic joy. Countless strangers had moved in to dance close to the slender brunette. Hands trailed across her midriff and arms, unaware of the frayed nerves that were silently shredding underneath.

That was when Katie had seen the storm in Effy's eyes. Perhaps sensing another implosion like last weekend with Arsia, she swept in and swatted the nearest and latest hopeful away. Without touching Effy, she formed a barrier with her body and locked eyes with the taller girl. To everybody else, it would have simply looked like they were dancing together. But Katie was asking Effy the same thing the brunette's eyes had asked her yesterday. _Are you ok? Do I stick my oar in? Will you accept my help?_

With a single nod, Effy had given Katie the consent she needed. The twin placed her hand on Effy's arm. Mouthing 'bathroom' to Emily who was nearest, she cleared a path through the throng and ushered Effy to the safety of the edge.

Nevertheless once they got there, Effy felt anything but safe. Her skin was prickling at the point where Katie's fingers had been wrapped around her upper arm. Goosebumps had formed everywhere her skin was bare which, let's be honest, was a bloody great deal of skin. Her mouth was dry and her head spun. She needed fresh air. Well, tobacco and cold air from outside would do. So she had managed a meek smile of thanks to the other girl before pushing through the doors onto the street.

It starts to rain again. First just a drizzle which Effy finds calming, but soon it's a healthy downpour. Out of sheer stubbornness, she persists to eke out what's left of me. She shrugs back under the inadequate archway. Changing to an overhand grip to shield me from the increasing shower she pinches out small puffs between thumb and index finger. With her hair now soaking wet but her heart a bit steadier, she stands guard on her small stretch of sidewalk. Puff by puff, she creates a smokescreen to envelop her so she can quietly recede back into the wall completely.

* * *

**Take care, all of you out there.**


	10. Cigarette 10 - A Tiny Light in the Dark

**A Tiny Light in the Dark**

**"Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." Hellen Keller.**

* * *

The vintage metal tin still smells of menthol from the old throat pastilles it contained. When it's opened, the air is thankfully not so heady. She transferred us in here after almost getting us drenched beyond salvation outside the Vanity, so I won't complain. At least it's dry in here.

Her fingers pluck me delicately from the base and she pockets my siblings in Tony's threadbare cardigan. Naomi is already flicking her lighter aggressively at her rollie.

It's dark as fuck out here. Neither of them bothered to switch the outside light on. It's not like they're going to trip on anything in the 3 meters out the door. Besides, there's solace in the darkness out here. When Effy's lighter clips shut, the only lights left under the porch are Naomi's fag and me.

It's a bit of a ritual for these two. Every time the gang congregates at the Campbell household, the Fitch-softened blonde and the life-hardened brunette stumble out of the flat to quell a quick craving. Sometimes they'll stand in mutual silence, sometimes they'll exchange hard truths like they're no bigger deal than last week's shopping list. But they never, ever, entertain casual banter. Neither girl has ever been much for the stilted or superficial triteness of common exchanges.

A small bouquet of cinders hits the pavement without a sound.

"So" Naomi's tone is nonchalant "Katie's changed a bit."

Effy shrugs, as usual. She knows Naomi can't see it in the pitch darkness so she has to reply.

"We've all changed. You've changed." It sounds more defensive than she'd intended.

"I suppose I have, yeah." The blonde thinks for a bit. "Kinda had to, I guess. You know Emily."

A nod; Effy knows exactly what she means. The twins are certainly very alike in that regard, devoted and uncompromising. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

It seems like the twins are not the only stubborn ones though as Naomi persists. "I just meant I've seen Katie disappear with you a couple of times now. You two seem to be getting along better than at the beginning of sixth form."

"Well she's less grating, for a start." Replies Effy, still holding the smoke in her lungs. It's not like her to evade the real crux of a question like this.

"Can't deny that!" Naomi chuckles indulgently "It's actually sort of nice now that she's not such a raging bitch towards me. Not to mention she's finally let Ems cut the cord, so to speak. Never thought I'd live to see the day. Dare we call it a truce?"

Effy blows softly at the lit end to revive me. "Katie is… she'll always be Katie."

It's Naomi's turn to nod. "Another Stonem truth."

"We understand each other better now." It's true, there was a time when Effy could see right through her, but the older twin has gotten more complex lately. Now there's a deeper mutual understanding between the two. Katie seems to read Effy just as well as Effy can read her.

"She's ok." Effy thinks out loud. "She'll be ok." She adds, somewhat more equivocally.

Rollies are a bit self-righteous. I can sense Naomi's fag judging me silently from across the porch as the blonde mulls over Effy's words. I can hear muted voices inside over the stereo. A door opens and closes, soft footsteps up the hall. Suddenly the door behind us cracks open and a small redhead emerges.

"Hey." Emily creeps up to Naomi in the light bleeding out from the hallway. "Mind if I steal a drag?"

The shorter girl places a quick and confident peck on her girlfriend's neck. Naomi hands over the rollie and leans in to her touch. The two relax into a comfortable standing embrace, finding all the right notches in each other's bodies like they've learned them all by heart, which I suppose they have.

It must be nice.

Effy watches on, Naomi's words dancing around in her mind and playing hopscotch with her own thoughts. Sometimes she thinks she was born backwards… you know, came out of her mum the wrong way. As Naomi and Emily chatter on, she hears words go past her backwards. Everything is back to front. The people she should love, she hates, and the people she should hate… well…

Now that the light has invaded the girls' peaceful retreat, I can see evidence of the changes Effy mentioned about the blonde.

She no longer persists in wearing those horrid floral prints or overalls these days. Her self-confidence in her identity has come shining through since she's been happily shacked up with Emily. She still looks like herself but more, I don't know… confidently muted. Her new style is relaxed and practical but with an identifiable Campbell flair. Like her sense of individuality is no longer something she's out to prove to the world. Such that one can actually comfortably be seen out in public with her while sober.

Come to think of it, it's amazing what a difference a school term can make. Even Katie has toned down the animal prints. Effy suddenly realises it's been a good month since she saw the last flash of lacy leopard or hint of garish zebra. Now that the older twin has come into her own style rather than slapping on the standard WAG uniform and makeup, she has really become quite stunning.

I'm on my last legs when the girls decide to return inside. As they file through the door, Effy crushes me against the metal frame of the door. I overhear Emily at the threshold, Naomi has obviously caught her up on her chat with Eff.

"I'm glad you and Katie seem to hate each other less than you did a year ago, Eff. It's less hard work for me when you're not constantly at each other's throats."

Effy's reply is quiet. It's hard to tell if it's for Emily's benefit or her own.

"I never hated Katie Fitch."

* * *

**And with that I hereby promise to return to work on Some People Have Real Problems because it's been marinating happily in the back of my mind for some time now but I know I've been neglecting it.**

**That said, I might also start publishing my second Keffy fic which I technically started writing before I even conceived of this one.**

**Who knows what I'll do... I sure as hell don't. :) Any requests for prioritizing this fic, SPHRP or the new fic (which shall henceforth be dubbed MEA - I'll let you stew on the mystery acronym) are welcome in the form of DMs or reviews. I'll do my best to focus on whichever people most want to read.**

**Best **

**Froggie**


	11. Cigarette 11 - A Trip

**A Trip**

**"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars."**

**Jack Kerouac – **_**On the Road.**_

* * *

She was still flustered and hazy when she walked in the door of the Elvaston Road house early Sunday afternoon. She had gone straight upstairs to drop off her bags and pick up our tin which she had left behind the night before. Bypassing the shower until later, she'd checked her old bedroom to find her sheets messily pulled back and two wine glasses on her bedside table, both half empty and both with her mother's lipstick on them. When she passed her parent's bedroom, her dad's snoring had stopped abruptly. His sleeping really was getting later and shallower every night.

Pulling me out of the tin, she pads back down to the kitchen towards the soothing sound of her mother ranting at a magazine. As she crosses the threshold, the older woman looks up.

"Oh hey love." She says in the most blasé tone. If this were not the Stonem household, I would be shocked at such disregard for where her daughter had disappeared to without notice the night before. But it is the Stonem household, and Effy likes it better this way.

"Where's your father?" adds Anthea in perfunctory fashion.

Effy perches on the counter behind her mother's chair and lights me in the middle of the kitchen. Anthea doesn't even flinch. "Still in bed. Says he's not getting up today."

"Oh right… good…" It's not clear whether she's glad she won't be crossing paths with her estranged husband or if she's simply not listening. Even Effy is unsure, she makes a mental note to test this.

Anthea returns to her gossip rag. "Bastard… Bastard…" She flicks through the glossy pages and points accusingly at every man staring back at her.

Her mother's voice still has an almost palliative effect on the young girl. And these days, with swearing the new norm of expression around the household, even the cursing is comforting and familiar. Effy takes her first drag and she already feels a thousand percent better for the company and the chemicals. The cold that had crept into her bones from the forest starts to seep out of her as if my tiny flame were a great warm hearth.

Anthea flips to another page and points more vehemently at the picture she finds.

"Oh! Big, fat, ugly, Irish bastard!"

"All men are bastards, mum." Effy doesn't truly believe that yet, mostly she's humouring the frustrated and cynical older woman.

She pulls another breath of smoke into her lungs and sets her highly vivid brain onto replay. Methodically, she begins to go through the events of last night in chronological order, like a forensic expert combing through evidence. She's attempting to piece together a picture that makes more sense than the dim facts.

Her mother continues her man-hating cathartic exercise in the background as her mind drifts back.

The car trip to Gobblers End, the winding walk through the woods, setting up camp. Barring the gun-toting psychos in the jeep, none of it had been out of the ordinary. 'Beware, the moon.' _Yeah, right_. The howling, that was the boys; the unburdened elation of youth and freedom.

She and Panda had sat against the oldest tree in the clearing. The younger girl had asked her about how love can't avoid going through changes. Her naïve friend always looked to her like a mentor of sorts. Effy liked the attention but she couldn't help but feel Pandora could hardly have picked more fucking unsound footsteps in which to follow than hers.

The questioning had left Effy feeling a bit too exposed for her own liking so she had soon wandered off beyond the camp for some air. As if the objectively fresh air of the clearing had suddenly been rendered unbreathable, clouded with heavy insinuation and implication.

She drags more loaded breaths through me as she relives her meanderings through the woods.

When she had returned a little while later with mushrooms, gathered from the mossy shadow of an elm, she had once again commandeered the attention of the group. Everyone but Katie and JJ had crouched around her and eagerly shared the shrooms.

They would really follow this girl anywhere, at the detriment of their own safety. All of them. To the ends of the earth.

Hours later, when they had added white powder and booze to the cocktail in their systems, the clearing was an unfettered mess of more howls and sparklers. Time lost its footing then. Effy remembers falling asleep for a moment with her hand in Panda's.

It could have been several nights later, she woke up. The sky was still pitch dark. If she didn't know for a fact that today was Sunday, she would begin to doubt how many nights they had all spent in that damp clearing. There was a growing uncomfortable buzzing in her head and a dry wedge of sandpaper in her throat. She softly placed her friend's hand onto her stomach and wandered back into the forest for some more peace and air.

By the time she realised she was lost, the demons that lived in her head were crawling out. Unfurling their armoured exoskeletons across her skin, they began to scuttle over her arms and neck, multiplying at an exponential rate.

Even remembering it, she has to pinch me between her lips and brush hastily at her arms from the phantom sensation that the memories evoke.

She can still hear the echoes calling her name, bouncing around the small kitchen's walls. The sound is so tangible, it's a wonder Anthea isn't looking up from her magazine in search for the source of it too.

"Effy… Effy…" at first it's in the howling of the wind.

Effy had begun to run. She couldn't tell if she was running towards or away from the cries but she just knew she couldn't stay still. Her own cries died in her dry throat.

"Effy" again, only clearer. It's Katie's voice.

Katie had come looking for her. Katie was running after her, chasing her. The next thing Effy remembers, the redhead had collided with her full pelt, knocking the wind out of both and some of the bugs off Effy in the process. They tumbled painfully to the ground and rolled among the leaves.

Sure, in hindsight the sound of the bugs scuttling over her entire body was probably just the rustling of the leaves underneath. And yeah, the prickling under her skin was probably the contact of the other girl's flesh again. Fine, the burning sensation of a thousands of legs crawling and clawing at her was likely the fever brought on by the drugs and another manic episode. _Fucking easy to say now._ The shifting forms and shadows against her pale complexion were obviously as many tricks of the light. And ok, it was all just a very, very bad trip. But in the thick of the forest and the dark of the night, under the weight of the smaller girl, the peril was indeed very, very real. A different kind of peril, perhaps, but it was enough to shatter Effy a million times over.

"Get them off me!" Effy sobbed, more vulnerable than she had ever felt before, trapped under the dumbfounded redhead. She wanted it to stop. She wanted it all to stop.

Then had come the moment that shocked her more than any of the vivid hallucinations that had preceded it. Katie had probably panicked, but that much was real, Effy is sure of it.

The redhead's eyes had flickered wildly in their sockets before locking onto Effy's own. Katie managed to pin both of Effy's flailing arms to the ground to avoid further injury to either of them. Then, before Effy could panic any more about being suddenly trapped there by the surprisingly strong Fitch, she had leaned in and pressed her lips forcefully to Effy's, silencing the brunette's remaining cries.

Effy shakes her head as she takes a more conscious inhale.

So… fuck… she hadn't expected _that. _In the heat of the moment she had gone from panic, to shock, to realisation. As Katie's lips slowly parted against hers, she very slowly coasted back to calm. She relaxed gradually in Katie's grip. The sensations withdrew one by one, leaving only her thumping heart and a completely empty mind.

Effy's mind had never _ever_ been blank. It was the most elating feeling of all. Like a moment of complete lucidity, thrown into sharp relief by the fact that it had immediately followed the most intense trip of her life.

Somewhere in the confusion, she had rolled on top of the smaller girl and begun to kiss back. _No more thinking_. Her lips and her tongue moved on their own and so did Katie's.

When her breathing had calmed to a human rate again, she pulled back and looked beseechingly into Katie's eyes. The other girl merely tightened her embrace. So Effy had soon collapsed against the redhead's body and passed out from the exhaustion.

"So how are things, love?" Anthea asks her daughter without turning around.

Effy is brought back into the kitchen by the sound of her mother's voice. "Oh, you know, usual teenage stuff. I've been out in the forest making out with this totally fit girl." Brutally frank, another Stonem sibling trait.

Anthea hums as if it were a question mark, still obviously immersed in her magazine.

Effy flicks some ash off her left leg into the adjacent sink, and decides to test her theory, laying it on thick.

"Her name is Katie, she's rather beautiful; so I was nailing her. First she kissed me, so naturally I went down on her like a hungry nympho, until she came hot and fast and sticky in my mouth. Then she finger-fucked me to a screaming orgasm that echoed round the forest. Never had an orgasm like that with Freddie, not even in your bed. So anyway, finally we fell asleep in each other's arms. And here I am, back from Gobblers End with a newfound taste for pussy."

Ok so that second last bit was true. She had passed out in Katie's arms and Katie had stayed there on the cold forest floor, holding Effy steady until she too had fallen asleep.

"That's lovely darling" says Anthea. _Ok, evidently not listening. _

But it _had_ been lovely. And Effy allows herself a sly smile as she crushes me against the cold metal of the sink, slips off the counter, past her mother and back up the stairs into her bedroom.

* * *

**Yeah, so there are all different kinds of trips. Good ones, bad ones, ones that take you somewhere real, ones that take you somewhere meaningful, ones that take you deeper into your own head than you'd like. Somewhere you planned or somewhere you never thought you'd go but you're glad for it once you come back.**

**Best**

**Froggie**


	12. Cigarette 12 - The Light that Streams in

**The light that streams in**

**Without further ado about this very great something, I give you the next instalment.**

* * *

The light that streams in as soon as the lid of our tin is popped comes as a shock. Though my glimpses of the outside world have hitherto been brief, they were enough to know that bright healthy sunshine is not too prominent a feature in Effy's life. Fingers reach into the tin and pluck me away from the comfort of my siblings. It's my turn to live, to burn. My turn to gain a fleeting insight into the mystery that is Effy Stonem. But the fingers that drag me further into the light do not belong to Effy. These fingers are foreign.

Quite literally as I discover as she twirls me obsessively round those fingers whilst Effy searches absent-mindedly for a light. It gives me a chance to take in my surroundings as well as to gain my first nuances of empathy for the woman who will consume me. There's a monument of some sorts, a statue of somebody pompous on a horse, whilst on the steps that lead up to it lurk a scattering of bored-looking youth. On the road behind us, a man stripped down to the shirtsleeves of a chauffeur's uniform struggles with the wheel nuts on the flat tire of an expensive looking car.

Oxana, for such is her name, looks expensive too. She goes with the car, and she glowers down at her driver as if it is his fault that the car had the temerity to break down at such an unsuitable location. Finally Effy manages to provide her with fire, and as she takes her first long grateful breath of me, a blast wave of her consciousness explodes into mine.

She's not from round here. Not just this tatty street with its faded monument to former glories, which Effy inhabits amongst the other disaffected youth, waiting for something it seems. No, this woman is from further afield, the Ukraine to be precise, and though she is older than Effy by a mere handful of years, their lives have taken radically different paths. Oxana is married, though there is no love involved in the arrangement, at least not from her side. The money and the expensive clothes that have become second nature to her bring her no satisfaction, and the so-called better life she entered into this mail-order marriage for seems bitter to the taste.

She knows she is lucky. The man is wealthy and decent enough. He likes to show her off like the trophy she so clearly is, but it is a small price to pay compared to the stories she used to hear about the young girls who disappeared from the villages never to be seen again. Everybody knew what was going on, and her body is seized by an involuntary shudder at the thought of it. No-one spoke openly against it at the time, but now she has a new word for it. Sex trafficking. She doesn't associate her own arrangement with the trade, at least she only has to sleep with one man she doesn't love. But her sense of dissatisfaction is growing daily. Since moving to the UK, she has learned a whole dictionary's worth of new words for things. Including the sensations that spin through her body as she takes another drag from me and looks at Effy properly for the first time.

Her new words are powerful. They give her a definition she lacked back at home. Feelings that seemed shameful, dirty or wrong when she had no proper words to identify them have been legitimised by the language of this new world. She is gay, a lesbian, she is attracted to people of the same gender. Somewhere in her subconscious she has always known it, but here in this seemingly unfettered society, it is becoming increasingly difficult to push it to the back of her mind. Here, where she sees women holding hands and even kissing openly in the street. Here, where beautiful young women wear next to nothing and own the fact with pride. Here, where such feelings are no longer shocking, and even this most hated of governments makes efforts to enshrine their rights with laws. Here, where men and women are no longer prepared to deny themselves the love that they deserve. Here. Now. Where the intense beauty of the girl that she has bummed a fag from begins to sink in.

Effy feels the heat of Oxana's scrutiny, and looks up from where she has been sparking up one of my colleagues. As soon as her clear blue eyes lock with the stranger's, she knows. Effy always knows. An understanding flashes between them and the faintest hint of a smile ghosts across her lips. Once again, she is desired. It's nothing new, but she allows herself the luxury of checking the rich girl out – long straight dark hair, hazel eyes, tall, powerful body and pleasingly full breasts. Oxana fills her lungs with me once more and unashamedly bathes in the sensation of Effy's gaze and the intrigue that sits behind it. Increasingly, she has found herself staring at pretty girls, but this is the very first time that one of them has stared back.

The sensation is thrilling, and it sets off a chain of physical reactions. She is in awe of Effy's brazenness, the freedom she seems to wear as casually as her shredded semblance of a dress. For a moment the older girl is seized by an envy that her life has never allowed her such an attitude. But as Effy continues to stare her out, her envy warps into admiration. Oh to be a girl such as this. She senses a kindred spirit, and admiration turns to inspiration. Perhaps it's not too late. Perhaps she could reclaim the girlhood that escaped her, and become a young woman such as this. She watches as Effy blows a perfect smoke ring right in front of her face. This is definitely a woman to aspire to. Just as long as she gets to fuck her first.

They have yet to exchange a word since the Ukranian's initial request for a cigarette, and yet the air is brimming with communion. She feels that Effy already knows her better than her husband ever will. She feels no shame in her willingness to betray him, for he has in effect attempted to buy her love, and everybody knows how well that usually works out. On the next cycle of my smoke in and out of her lungs a decision is made. She will proposition the young woman in front of her. And if the blue-eyed beauty is agreeable, she will commit her first act of lesbian adultery.

Without even realising it, the two women have moved closer. So close in fact, that the smoke they have held in their lungs begins to mingle in the open air and I am granted a greater grasp of Effy's motivations. She begins to consider the offer that she knows will surely come. She has not exactly fucked a girl before, but then again she has not exactly closed herself off to the idea. She is, after all, a hedonistic seeker of sensation and it seems foolish to deny herself the prospect of pleasure, and the stranger is quite frankly, fit as fuck. But something is holding her back, and though she bridles at the thought of anyone or anything controlling her behaviour, it is strong enough to give her second thoughts. She lets a trademark smirk grow across her features to hide the fact that she is struggling between her desire to press the self-destruct button and say fuck it all, and this new and unfamiliar emotion that she cannot seem to shake. It proves effective as Oxana senses nothing of this struggle, and pulls heavily on me again attempting to draw the courage to make her move.

"The fuck is this?"

A loud and angry voice shatters the intimacy between the two women.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Oxana watches as Effy drops her like a stone and focuses all her attention on the new arrival, and we both know in an instant that this is the reason behind Effy's hesitation. Katie fucking Fitch. The name reverberates in the smoke-filled air around us, and its power is undeniable. Though Oxana does not know this name, she senses it too as she recoils from the tiny fury with the eyes and hair of fire.

"You can't do this," says Katie, her voice shaking slightly from the undercurrent of doubt beneath the flames. "Not after ki…. Not after what you did?"

"What I did?" answers Effy, in shock. "But you…"

"Shut up," Katie interrupts her, glancing nervously around her in case anyone had managed to work out what had gone on between them in the woods. But there is only one witness who gives a damn, and she doesn't have to work it out. She knows love when she sees it. A flood of painful memories overtakes her as she remembers her best friend from school. The friend with the most beautiful smile and the kindest heart of all the girls in town. The girl who had been her constant companion until the rumours started circulating and her family sent her away, tearing the would be lovers away from each other at the tender age of sixteen. Unlike Effy and Katie they had never even kissed, but Oxana's heart had been shattered beyond all repair, and it was then she had begun to plan her escape route, desperate for a way out.

"What the fuck is going on here anyway?" Katie's furious voice drags Oxana back to the present. "You get me to come all the way out here so that we can talk, and then I have to watch you eyefucking the first ho you can get your hands on."

Oxana pulls on me once more, using the chemicals I provide to step back and calm herself. She knows now that Effy could never be hers, for a part of her already belongs to someone else. The silent heroine she thought would never apologise to anybody begins backtracking furiously in the face of the other woman's rage.

"I didn't," she says earnestly. "We were just smoking."

"Oh yeah," huffs Katie, "The kind of smoking that leads to naked shagging."

"Babes please," says Effy, touching Katie on the arm, and shocking her into silence. Some of our second hand smoke has drifted briefly into Katie's lungs and I can tell that she has been floored by Effy's use of an endearment. Oh God, I hear her think to herself, this is fucking real. I really have to deal with this. She lets Effy's hand fall down her arm until their fingers start to intertwine.

"I'm a little bit lost here," she admits.

"I'll find you," whispers Effy. "Just like you found me."

All three women hold their breath, locked in the moment until a foreign cloud of smoke invades my own. One that is laced with marijuana.

"Oi, oi, what's going on here?" comes a rough male voice. "Don't tell me you two are joining the muff monkey mafia."

"Fuck off and die, Cook," fumes Katie, dropping Effy's hand and starting to storm off, before turning back and glaring at her.

"You coming?" she frowns.

"If ya play your cards right ya soon will be, Eff," guffaws Cook. "Just make sure and film it for me, yeah?"

If anyone asked, she would say it was just my smoke, but Oxana feels the prick of salt in her eye as Effy lets the first genuine smile of their encounter burst across her face. She smiles back, assured that when that day finally comes, the heavens themselves will reverberate with the concussion. Effy turns and catches up to Katie, drifting along as if enchanted. Oxana watches them walk away, casually rebuffing Cook's inevitable advances, her eyes lingering long after the moment they turn the corner out of sight. She will never know their names, but they will burn inside her for the rest of her days. Theirs is a wildfire that cannot be contained, and they have lit up the withered grasslands of her heart. Finally she knows what it is that she wants from this life. Not freedom, not sex, not even merely love. She wants what they have. She wants passion.

She takes a final drag of me as she delightedly adds 'muff monkey' to her armoury of words. Words that will give her back her power. Words that will drive her to become. She thinks about the string of words that arrived on a letter for her that very morning. Words that will give her the ability to control her destiny. Words that will change everything.

"We are delighted to inform you that you have been granted indefinite leave to remain in the United Kingdom."

She does not even bother to crush me out, she merely drops me in the gutter and allows me a few more precious moments with her as I burn right down to my filter. The monument no longer bears witness to some forgotten past, instead it comes to life as it commemorates a momentous day in one woman's personal history. And with the last embers of my brief but beautiful life, I see her turn her back on the expensive car and start to walk away.

* * *

**Oxana is a Ukrainian colloquial variant of the name Xenia (Kseniya). It is of Greek origin and means "stranger, foreigner".**

**Now then, the most discerning among you will have picked up a distinctive 'other' tone to this chapter. This is no coincidence; it's not just me shifting my writing style for a cigarette bummed by a stranger, it's because I called on a very special guest writer to pen this chapter for us. ****That's right: the mighty Hyperfitched, currently on fanfic-writing hiatus, has come back from said hiatus to grace us with her intrinsic magic.**

**Now that you've all read the chapter and know who wrote it, let's have it: who out of you picked it?**

**I hope you all basked in every delicious word as I did. And I will be sure to forward her your raving reviews. ****All together now: "Thanks Hypes!"**


	13. Cigarette 13 - Time to Face the Music

**Time to face the music**

"**Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make's love known."**

**William Shakespeare – **_**Macbeth.**_

* * *

The lid was barely closed for a minute before it is cracked again. I hear a sigh as I'm finally allowed out into the light that has teased me more times than I can remember.

The first whiff of fresh air I get is already tainted with smoke and innuendo. I feel like I've just been dragged to a party against my will. I'm late, life is already in full swing and I don't know what's going on. I don't like this feeling. I begin to pine for the sanctuary of our tin, for the safety of my original dormant state. But that's not what life is about. And I don't exactly have a choice anyway, as I'm dragged into full consciousness by the deft flick of Effy's lighter. If I'm at the party, it's time to face the music.

As I scan our surroundings, I feel a shiver from the intense gaze of the dark stranger standing unnervingly close to us, smoking my kin. The shiver isn't mine, it belongs to Effy but I feel it as my own. It travels down her arm, to the extremities of her fingers and through me, from filter to tip.

Effy's first drag suppresses the shiver but does nothing to quell the excitement that caused it. She smiles. It's discrete, barely there, but I can feel her smiling. Her lips tighten around me as she does. The stranger sees the smile too; fuck knows she's standing close enough to notice. And I see it register on her handsome face in understanding.

Through the eye of Effy's first smoke ring, I observe the young woman. Her pupils are dilating in real time, making her brown irises appear even darker. She can't be much older than Effy, though her opulent clothes and growing look of confidence suggest otherwise. It's almost as if the smoke they are sharing is creating a symbiosis between the two women. Like Effy's aloof brand of seduction is not just beguiling, it's contagious if you stand close enough.

Effy contemplates the offer of unholy communion before it has even passed the other woman's lips. She stares at those full red lips a moment longer than she normally would. Her brain is catching up to her baser instincts and it's an unfamiliar feeling.

But before she has any time to dwell on it, the moment is shattered. Here comes the music. It takes the form of a short redhead whose loud, accusing tone is anything but melodic.

The exchange between Effy and Katie is rapid fire. As an extension of Effy now, I pick up on the shorthand they've developed over the last year of verbal jousting but poor Oxana has not a hope in hell. No hope to understand this interruption. No hope to make sense of the girls' foreign altercation. No hope of a further moment of intimacy with Effy.

But when Effy lit Oxana's cigarette, she lit a different spark of hope. She gave Oxana the permission to aspire to something more. So she doesn't fight it. She understands the bigger picture. Now it's up to Effy and Katie to step back and take it in too.

Katie turns on her towering heels and Effy is four steps and another drag of smoke behind her.

When she catches up to Katie around the corner her head is clearer, no longer clouded by insidious smoke from an alluring brunette. I can read her more honestly now and I'm surprised when I register anxiety. Now don't get me wrong, Effy's nerves are no strangers to being frazzled, but never by a fellow human being. Anything powerful enough to run her nerves ragged must be a fearsome inner demon, a formidable mental foe, but never something as fragile in appearance as the tiny redhead currently staring back at us on the verge of tears.

In the privacy of the side street, Katie has stopped trying to conceal any sign of weakness. It's not like she could fool Effy anyway and she knows it.

No more evading, this is it. Katie's expectant eyes dart around in their sockets and it reminds Effy of those silent films where Greta Garbo or Bette Davis swoon into Clark Gable's embrace, staring up into his eyes so close that they can't take in all that he is.

But Katie is no silent film actress. And despite her chain-smoking and her cocksure airs, Effy is no Clark Gable.

"I'm…" Effy flounders. She takes another puff of smoke to steel herself.

She wants to apologise for something that she didn't do. She wants to open up and tell Katie what made her hesitate. She wants to reach out and cup Katie's face for comfort. She wants to scream at Katie for this feeling that sits painfully in her chest. This feeling that she can't exhale as easily as my smoke. She wants every damn contradiction in the book.

I permeate Katie's lungs and with it her feelings. She feels like that night in the woods was like a schism in time. Like that was the moment everything got turned on its head. Like in some parallel universe, their tussle had culminated in an entirely different event.

But in this universe they had kissed, and she wants Effy to face up to it. Dares her not to pretend it didn't happen. She needs the other girl to have the courage to take responsibility for it. Because fuck, she doesn't have enough courage left any more. It's Effy's turn now. She had been sober as a judge that night when she'd kissed Effy. But Effy had kissed back. And now that Effy's brain is free of the demons and hallucinations that were torturing her in the woods, Katie needs her to take the helm.

That's when Effy reaches across the small divide. Katie flinches when the slender fingers make contact with her arm for the second time this morning. But then Effy has always had surprisingly warm hands. You don't expect it on first impression, what with her cool demeanour and icy blue eyes.

And Effy too feels comfort in the touch of Katie's skin. It comes back to her, the reassuring and steady pressure of Katie's body. The only reason she didn't scratch her own skin clean off her bones in the terror of that night.

Effy knows they're in a different place now. It's no longer that day outside of college when she'd stepped in on that stupid row between Katie and her former cronies. A paltry week ago, a million minutes ago. That day Katie was never going to own up to needing to be rescued. Or that night Katie had swooped in and skilfully and discretely ushered her out of the suffocating dance floor.

They had kept their unspoken agreement, the vow of mutual silence. But with every clandestine rescue, their bond had strengthened and now Effy feels no shame in what she is about to say:

"Thank you." She admits quietly.

Katie's mouth falls open but Effy doesn't leave her time to respond. She leans across and presses her lips to Katie's. The redhead cranes her neck to return the kiss and the gratitude. Effy holds me at arm's length as her other hand comes up to caress Katie's face and I can sense I'm not long for this world. There is now a much more appealing use for her lips. I'm dropped to the pavement. When Effy pulls back they are both smiling.

Katie's eyes are no longer hesitant. "Do we really need to talk about this?"

"Not now" Effy smirks.

Perhaps she will get to experience the pleasures of being with another woman today after all. Only not just any other woman. It was never going to be just any other woman.

She nods up towards Elvaston road. "Mine's just up there. We can…"

"Yeah." replies Katie with a resolute quiver.

And their hands find each other again, just like Effy had promised. _Just like you found me._

* * *

**.**


	14. Cigarette 14 - Communion

**Communion**

**I said I'd post this on the weekend. Luckily I live in the future so I've slipped this one past the keeper. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

The late March breeze slips in through the open window. Two feet poke out from under the queen size bed in the middle of the room. Effy lies on her back on the smooth timber floorboards, staring up at the mattress of her brother's bed through the slats.

This was Tony's space. He had retreated under here for days after his breakup with Michelle. Effy remembers sliding him rations of toasted sandwiches and cigarettes against her father's protests that she was just "enabling the tosser" and "encouraging her brother's histrionics." She remembers how he only came out once a day, when both their parents were out, just to take a slash. By the end of the fourth day he had emerged with a clear head and a plan. A plan he had not shared with anyone until he was free. Until months later when he had left the country overnight and had broken free from the gravitational pull of the Stonem name. Only then had he felt it was safe to leave Effy a letter with an explanation.

It's the stale lingering scent of those few dozen cigarettes that Tony smoked under this bed that teaches me what went through his mind during those days of soul-searching. They tell the story like a remote tale. A far-flung and faded anecdote, shrouded for safekeeping under a mattress, like an old lady's life savings.

Yeah even now, the dusty space still smells faintly of warm cheese, cheap tobacco and Tony's Drakkar Noir. But Effy doesn't mind. In fact that's kind of the fucking point. It's the comforting smell and lingering presence of her closest kin. Anthea worries whenever she sees her youngest child under the bed again. But for Effy this is not a cry for help, it's not about spinning out of control; it's quite the opposite. Whenever she wants solace and comfort she comes to the quiet solitude of Tony's favourite space. When she needs the grounded sense of communion with the only person who might understand, she crawls into her brother's confessional.

Right now she's replaying lush memories of what played out only a day before on top of this very bed. And she's mulling over the momentous decisions that come with what had happened. She hasn't decided to light me yet. She just runs my unlit tip back and forth along her collarbone absently as she stares right through the bed at the flashbacks dancing in black and white across the ceiling beyond.

A flash of Katie's elbows. A glint of white teeth in a crooked, uneasy smile. The quiver of massive jet-black pupils eyeing her with uncertainty. Her soft, rich skin much more lavish than Effy's own fragile body, and much more voluptuous than Freddie's harsh angular frame.

She is pulled out of her reverie by the tinny sound of her phone vibrating against the surface of her nightstand. She was never the kind of teenager who would download a pop song ringtone and the factory preset options were all so mind-numbingly boring. In one fluid motion she's poured herself out from under the bed and swipes her thumb against the screen. It comes alight and flashes up the name of her incoming Skype caller 'Antoine_B612.' The username is not one of her registered contacts but she sits on the bed and takes the call anyway.

"Wanker." She says with a rare genuine smile, swiping her lighter from the bedhead and flicking it twice.

"I see your period of sponsored silence is over then." Tony chuckles.

Even though she knows he can't see her, Effy only shrugs in response.

"Well good, otherwise this conversation would be a bit one-sided."

"Where are you, Tone?" she asks as she takes her first drag off me and picks a stray piece of lint and dust from between her lips with her thumb and middle finger.

Tony's grin is so loud, it can be heard through the phone. "Tarfaya, as of this morning. Flew into Casablanca yesterday; I've gone South for the winter."

"As in… fucking Morocco?" She's not shocked, her inflection is actually detached and casual. It's just part of their sibling shorthand to swear as if they're reciting the alphabet.

"Yup, fucking Morocco."

Effy takes another drag and imagines a warm desert wind as the smoke billows out of the corner of her mouth. It causes her to shiver a little in the reality of the chilly Bristol afternoon. She crosses the room to the wardrobe and finds the black and white plaid sleeve of a familiar tailored jacket that doesn't belong in there. Running her fingers down the thin fuchsia pin-stripe of the tweed pattern she quizzes her brother on his latest adventures.

No, he hasn't called Sid yet. Yes, he has been working. Odd jobs mostly, the latest stint being off the books for the Albanian postal service delivering mail in a tiny village with an average population age of 72, on a bike that was probably not far off that age. No, he doesn't need anything sent over. No, he doesn't have a fixed address. Yes, he's going to be staying there a while; no, he doesn't know how long.

Effy smirks as she tugs the cuffs of the ill-fitting jacket over her wrists and feels the material give and stretch pleasingly across her shoulder blades.

"Effy?"

She realises she hasn't said anything for a while and Tony has clearly asked a question that has gone unanswered.

"Mmm?" Effy taps me against the ashtray she keeps beside her bed and perches on the crisp white sheets.

Tony repeats coolly "I said 'Who are you shagging these days?' I mean, now that I'm not around to scare the shit out of them or distract mum and dad… I wanna know if he's 'behaving', you know, or I if need to fly back to straighten the guy out."

Effy pushes out another plume of smoke with a sigh. "Nobody at the moment."

"Oh? Freds finally got the flick, eh?" it's clear from his tone that this news is hardly a bombshell. He's more surprised that she hasn't gone back to uncomplicated, no-strings shagging than he is about the breakup. As for the possibility that it was Freddie who ended things with Effy and not the other way around; well that's obviously not even a consideration in Tony's mind. Most of the time he knows his sister even better than she knows herself.

I feel her lips tense around the filter. "Yeah, that's well over."

Her brother has the decency not to say he told her so.

"But there's someone on the horizon" he pushes on instead.

"What makes you say that?"

She thinks about Katie's eyes.

"There always is if you're not already shagging them, Eff."

She relaxes a little and lays her long upper body back onto the bed with her feet still on the ground, blowing a smoke ring towards the ceiling.

"I suppose."

She thinks about Katie's lips.

""Someone special?" This time Tony sounds surprised.

She doesn't rush to deny it. "Maybe."

Her mind drifts to Katie's smile.

The soft cut of Katie's jaw and the dimples under her chin. The nape of Katie's neck and the way her rich burgundy hair curls in shorter wispy locks either side under her hairline. The way when you brush back those hairs and kiss that spot, Katie will swat your hand away but she'll make a noise that says her body doesn't want you to stop.

I'll say this: I haven't met Katie, but the images of her that Effy is feeding me through each drag of smoke are enough to make even inanimate objects swoon. Of course, all these images are heavily tainted by the way Effy sees Katie. I can only see her through Effy's eyes, but let me tell you: Effy's eyes paint a fucking stunning picture of this girl.

"Eff," Tony starts.

"Yeah?"

"It's a girl isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Again, Tony's smile is audible through the receiver "Nice work. I'm sure she's gorgeous, obviously."

He pauses for a moment and Effy sits back up to flick more ash off my tip.

"Wait, so why aren't you nailing her?"

Effy affects an eye roll even though I'm the only one here to see it.

"She's not like you and me, Tony. She hasn't– She doesn't want to… yet. She's not ready."

Again another draw on my filter shows me for the fifth time today a flashback of those few crucial seconds of the day before.

How, after leisurely making out on Effy's bed and tension mounting, Effy's hand had traced its way up Katie's thigh. And how Katie's words had matched her actions this time. She'd gripped onto Effy's wrist, gasping even with the effort it took to control herself.

"Don't." she forced out and pulled Effy's hand around to rest on her hip.

Effy choked back the impression she'd done something wrong. "Sorry." She stuttered.

Katie smiled and reached up to kiss Effy's forehead. It was a more tender gesture than Effy had received from anyone for a long time. "No, it's fine. Just… not now."

Effy had balked for a second but very quickly recovered and rolled onto her side, leaving her hand against the redhead's hip.

She smiled and made sure there was no pressure hidden behind her words when she asked: "When?"

Katie's answer indicated she had been thinking about this before. "This year's love ball. I want you to take me."

Effy struggled to hide her shock at that. "You want me to…?!" she furrowed her brow and brought her hand up to stroke Katie's cheek.

"It doesn't mean I fucking _love _you, ok?" Katie hastened to clarify. "That's just what it's called. Christ, even Naomi is taking Emily this year. And maybe I've come to realise lately that I won't be getting the full romantic fairy-tale I'd dreamt of as a kid, the perfect boyfriend, perfect marriage, perfect everything…" she trailed off as her eyes scanned the ceiling.

"I just need at least this, alright. I want the fantasy. I want the fucking cliché."

It turned out Katie _had_ been thinking about this before. She wanted the whole shebang: the limo, the flowers, meeting the parents, the spiked punch, the dancing, and the return to a romantic night together. Then she would be ready.

"Look, I know you hate this sappy stuff and you think it's rubbish but... Just indulge me, yeah? Romance me?"

In the worked up state she had been, Effy had not been able to refuse. If pressed, she's not sure she had wanted to.

"You're the man, Sis." Tony provides. He's only half joking. "Anyway, I better be getting off. Don't want to be late for my motorcycle lesson."

Effy nods alone in the room. She tells her brother not to wait another three months before calling again and tosses the phone onto the bedside table.

Truth be told, in the clear light of day Effy is more concerned with the emotional implications of getting to be Katie's first than the logistics of how she would make that night special for her. Katie had chosen her. She would be responsible for something, something big. At least something big for Katie. And Katie is someone special; Tony was right.

She'd thrown her own virginity away on a whim. So that it didn't have to mean anything. She hadn't wanted it, or by extension herself, to belong to anyone. But now... Now she's been entrusted with someone else's.

For Effy, sex is like smoking. It's about abandon, about simple cathartic release. It's about losing herself. At least it has been until now. She takes another deep lungful of soothing smoke as she mulls over the contradiction: for Katie, sex isn't about losing anything, it's about giving herself to someone. But far from being frustrating, as it used to be, it is Katie's inherent contradictions that make her so irresistible to Effy now.

Boys her age are too easy, too simple. Effy can just look at them and they're hers. Katie is a challenge, a complex creature. And she deserves to be treated right, wooed even. She's never stood for Effy's crap and now that she is more... _friendly... _towards Effy she is still the master of her own decisions and not the slave to a teenage boy's hormones. Even if recently she's only been barely holding on to the brink of her resolve.

And it is precisely that which fills Effy with a respect she only now realises she's never quite held for Freddie (and certainly not for any of her easy one-time shags, liberating as they may have been). The very fact that Katie has held on to her virginity when the options have been there to cross that bridge. Effy doesn't regret her own choices. Fuck no; far from it! And this is no exception. But Katie's strength of conviction and knowledge of herself is a force of character more desirable than the sweetest and smoothest of flesh.

With a final drag, she adjusts the collar of the jacket and reaches over to the side table for her phone. She's just reached the Ks in her contacts when she stubs me out.


	15. Cigarette 15 - Against the Grain

**Against the Grain**

**Ok ok! Order in the court. Yes, it's been ages. In my defence, I've been busy with life and work. Also what little writing I've managed to scribble has been super focused on Mise en Abyme and a bit of Some People Have Real Problems. So rest assured that there should be updates coming on each of those before too long. That can be my penance.**

**Famous last words…**

* * *

The waterfront is a bit of a wind tunnel, so it takes her longer than she'd like to get the flame to take. Her frustration and nerves are palpable in the way the fingers that hold me tremble a little, and it's not from the cold. The view across the water is spectacular, a perfect reflection of the opposite quay, shimmering in the choppy wake of the passing night ferry. A flotilla of small leisure boats are moored in the shelter of their berths. Houseboats have dropped anchor along the wharf for the night. Bristol's day-dwellers are handing over the city to the nocturnal shift. But while all of this is happening, she is staring at her feet.

She takes a shallow toke and an uneasy cough catches in her throat.

The instant the first dose of chemical-laden smoke enters her lungs, I can feel her awkwardness. I can also feel that this emotion is new to her. Deep distress? She's seen her fair share. Anxiety? Fucking plenty. But never this kind of gnawing self-consciousness, this primitive insecurity of self-doubt. Her trademark appearance of cool and aloof confidence have swept away on the Avon wind.

She twists me around in her grip and chews aggressively at her nails.

"Fuck!" The word is scarcely an exhale against her fingertips.

When a door opens behind her, a light, feminine perfume wafts up and envelops us.

"I believe it's generally considered poor form to leave your date alone at table like that."

The voice is bold and bossy but the tone is playful. The girl's lisp would be grating but instead Effy sighs with relief and turns to face her accuser with a smile. The shorter girl is dressed a lot more appropriately for the swish Bordeaux Quay restaurant she's just emerged from, glass of red wine in hand. A deep green dress, so dark it's almost black, a stylish matching clutch purse gives her an air of maturity beyond her teenage years. Her hair is coiffed and her towering heels make Effy's boots seem even more out of place.

She waves me vaguely in the direction of the brassy redhead. "I needed some fresh air."

Effy then raises me to her lips and takes another bolstering drag while Katie mirrors her actions with her wine glass. Their eyes lock across the distance that separates them and I flash through the earlier events of the evening.

Effy picking up Katie at her front doorstep. Mother Fitch's icy and distrustful stare. The silent drive in the car she'd 'borrowed' from her mum. Their late arrival at Waterfront Square. The snooty maître-d' who had led them to their table with a haughty mixture of lust and condescension. The awkward exchanges over the bread basket and the welcome arrival of booze. An entire first course of clumsy chatter and odd looks from neighbouring tables. Up until Effy couldn't take any more of it and had excused herself to enlist my help out here.

Their stalemate staring contest ends when Katie speaks again.

"When I said 'romance me' I didn't mean 'go against every fibre of your being and take me on some bullshit yuppie square date'."

Effy nods and inhales more smoke to thaw her frozen limbs.

"I had Danny for that and I dumped that loser." Katie adds with an indulgent smile after a beat.

She necks the remainder of her drink and places the empty glass on the nearest outdoor table. The couple dining at the table gawp in disbelief at her back as she steps forward and takes Effy's free hand.

The smooth contact of skin on skin has an immediate effect on Effy. More palliative than the chemicals I can deliver. More reassuring than the ritual act of smoking me. Even more inspiring than the view that surrounds us.

Effy smirks with dawning realisation. "Wait… do they know you left the table to find me?"

Her grip on Katie's fingers tightens and her pulse quickens as she surveys the dimly lit outdoor settings.

"Uh… no. I just-"

"Sweet."

Without warning, I am crushed swiftly against a concrete bollard. I slip into a muted consciousness, tucked into Effy's jacket pocket. I hear the music of Effy's feet racing up the quay, echoed by the higher pitch of Katie's heels behind her, catching on the cobble stones. And back in the distance, the sound of garbled shouting from the staff that will never catch them.

* * *

I am pulled back out on an elevated winding street, a far cry from the water. The girls are still breathing fast but there's a lightness in the air between them now. Katie is laughing through short strained breaths. Effy looks up triumphantly at the looming structure on the dark vacant lot. We are standing at the foot of a large freestanding scaffold, five storeys tall.

She straightens out my crumpled form and picks ash from the burnt tip. Placing me between her lips, she grabs hold of the link-mesh fence that surrounds the lot and stands between them and the inviting skeleton framework within.

Her lithe body is lifted up into the air and Effy throws a leg over the top frame. She locks her legs around the bracing and turns to face Katie, extending a chivalrous hand.

"You're fucking joking, right?" Katie scoffs. "It's all very well for you; your tights are already fashionably ripped. I'll ruin my dress to shit if I scale that."

So with a "Fair enough" and a shrug, Effy pulls herself over the tall gate and drops onto the ground on the other side with predictable agility. "Wait here" she instructs.

Once inside the construction site, she doesn't have to search long before coming back to the fence line with a pinched pair of wire cutters.

"Thing about construction sites." She says as she clips away at the thin metal links. "Half the time they've got everything you need to break in, just lying around."

Perched behind Effy's ear, I watch as Katie quietly places a hand on Effy's inert one resting on the criss-cross mail of the fence. When she's finished cutting an L-shaped line into the bottom corner, she folds it back and ushers Katie in.

Atop the highest platform, Effy ignites my tip and coaxes me back to life.

From up here, the smoke-stained burroughs and the colourful terrace-houses are indistinguishable. Stone churches and halls steeped in history and heritage blend completely with the blocky brick vestiges of the industrial era. The whole city is simply a blank canvas for the lights that herald the human activity within. Bristol's nightlife and the sins it offers are a level playing field. Everyone is equal under stobe lights after 4 tequilas, 5 cigarettes and a line of charlie. Everyone is equal from a distance. Up here at night it's not just picturesque, it's the Bristol Effy calls home.

"This is more like it." Katie grins, sitting down on the cold metal and suppressing a shiver.

The smoke ring Effy blows out drifts over the railing and off towards the horizon.

"Shame we missed the sunset." the redhead pulls her knees to her chest and looks over to where Effy has stepped towards a fire hose reel cabinet with broken hinges.

Taking a final drag, Effy smirks mysteriously "There's always the sunrise."

She pulls the cabinet open and returns to Katie's side with a familiar fuschia jacket and a ratty old sleeping bag. This time she crushes me against the steel plate.

Even in my last lucid moments, I can't miss the way Katie's face lights up when Effy wraps the cover around them both and reaches for the flask of vodka in her Jacket lining.

"You planned this all along didn't you."

Effy doesn't answer the question, merely leans in and drops a single kiss on Katie's neck.

It's only a whimper but I still catch Katie's words on my way out. "For someone who doesn't speak, you always get the fucking last word."

* * *

**See you on the next page. **


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